May 2008

Just finished fillin' out the log book for my 24th annual extended extravagant backroads expedition beginning Tomorrow morning at 4:30 am. Formless spontaneous shunpiking thru the hinterlands of Va., Wva., Ky, Tenn, and NC. Following the next impulse. As the marching bars show, long gone are the heady days when out-of-pocket expenses could be kept below $28-$30 per day - food, gas, shelter and incidentals like ice, an occasional spray wash to knock the dust and mud off the truck, scotch tape for map repair and, of course, essentials like my daily course of chocolate crème filled cup cakes. For the first 3 or 4 days I'll retrace old familiar tracks while performing all adjustments needed to shift from living in the burbs to living in my truck. Sixty five year old joints and ligaments need a bit of coaxing, you know, this trip eased by my new thermarest plus foam cushion combo called "Dreamland". On Day 01 I'll find State Road 215 in Transylvania Co. NC heading north up thru the headwaters of the North Fork French Broad River, then north along the Blue Ridge Parkway to a favorite Inn in Burnsville. On Day 02 I'll follow familiar backroads north thru the mountains of western North Carolina ending at Raccoon Branch campground in Smyth County Va. Early the next morning Day 03 I'll stop at the Sugar Grove Diner for pork tenderloin and eggs and my annual visit with Peggy Sexton to catch up on local news from the last 12 months. After replenishing gas and ice it's north via the off-track thru Bland, Giles, Craig, and Alleghany Cos. Virginia stopping when the light fails. With a long hard Day 03 drive I might make it to the Pocahontas Campground in Pocahontas County, Wva - Greenbrier River headwaters. Back in three weeks. Play those crazy bars.

My father planted a vegetable garden each year, a real necessity in those days for country folk of modest means. And, he seemed compelled to expand its borders each year making it bigger and bigger exceeding the plot shown above several times over. (Or so it seemed to me.) "Why does he keep doing this," questioned the voice of disbelief from my adolescent sense of rationality. With each annual growth ring I could see my play time shrinking below reasonable levels. In fairness to him, even though certain tasks like potato planting or pole bean staking required additional hands, he seldom insisted that I forego play for garden chores. Which, of course, was fine with me at the time. Over the years, however, when confronted by reminders like this gardener, I feel a nagging twinge of guilt admitting that I fell short and could have helped him a lot more with little sacrifice. A permanent message from the sower.

Call me crazy, but some mornings when I depart base camp (this day the West End Café in Jamestown) there's an anticipation in the air, a deep sensation that the day will be special. At 7:00 am I turned west on Glen Obey Road, clearly a heritage road, and headed downhill thru the headwaters of the East Fork Obey River. A quiet cool 55 degrees with sweet low-lying light. Within 25 minutes I spooked a flock of goldfinches, photographed a Robins Plantain display in a small cemetery with very old headstones, and stopped to catch my breath by an old dirt road bridge over Rockcastle Creek. The experience filled my heart with proud feelings and my eyes with tears then, and now as I assemble this posting and recall those precious moments.

I pull over in Burrville without thinking. It's second nature. Instinctive. Early morning light engulfs the white house across the road and highlights the water tank on the hill. Chilly air nips at my cheeks. I stand for a spell and gaze, empty headed. The connection here is intangible, but powerful. Is this a village? A hamlet? A crossroads? Where's the general store? The garage? The post office? The grade school echoing vitality of kids at play? Then I realize they're always here. I bring them along everywhere I go. They revive in my sentiments, and the flood of warm and wonderful memories - 7 a.m. in Burrville.

Cows graze peacefully across from Maxwell Chapel in Overton County, Redbud's on fire in Scott County, Field Mustard makes a spectacle of itself along Honey Creek Road in Fentress County - just a few sweet notes from this year's Deep Spring Reprise. Eight Tennessee counties south of the Kentucky line: Clay, Cumberland, Fentress, Jackson, Morgan, Overton, Pickett, and Scott. Kicking off the afternoon of Day 1 north of Crossville to the base of operations at Jamestown. Day 2 mostly in Scott County to the east (red). Day 3 mostly in Morgan County to the southeast (green). Day 4 mostly in Overton and tips of Clay and Jackson Counties to the west (magenta). Departing reluctantly Day 5 southeast thru Rugby to the old rail head at Elgin arriving by nine in the morning. That's 560.9 cheerful backroad miles, and a billion or two leaf buds speckled and sparkling under the clear blue sky. Mid 40's at night; mid 70's midday. Small wild blue phlox bloomin' every place. Dry banks, creek sides, fence lines, even on a huge flat rock two card tables wide by 3 long. Damdest thing. Occasionally one may see a sign that forewarns "if you can read this sign you're in range". But never mind, Morgan County does not have a single road sign on its backroads. Dead reckoning a survival necessity. Morning breakfasts at the West End Café listening to WDEB radio 1500 am on the dial. Yesterday's obituaries, the local calendar of events, who's visiting whom, home town ball scores, and a little country music in between. And the crispy bacon was out of this world. Feels like home again. At last.